Pep Talk
by Alchemine
Summary: Post-Miss Softbroom, Dimity provides Hecate with a bracing dose of common sense, seasoned with a dash of flattery. Could be Hecate/Ada, could be Dimity/Hecate, take your pick.


"What on earth are you doing in here? Dinner started twenty minutes ago."

Dimity pushed her way through the half-open door to the potions lab and addressed Hecate's back, which was bent over a simmering cauldron. Even from a distance, she could see the taut strands of Hecate's hair nearly screaming for mercy, as if she'd pulled them even tighter than usual to compensate for her lapse earlier. It had been six hours since Dimity and the first-years had managed to reverse the personality-changing potion, but against all probability, the memory seemed still to be fresh in her colleague's mind.

"Well, then, you're late for it, aren't you?" Hecate said sharply.

"So are you," Dimity pointed out.

"I'm not hungry."

"Neither am I, after everything that's happened, but I'm going anyway and so should you."

Hecate hooked the ladle over the edge of the cauldron and delicately adjusted the flame underneath it before finally turning around to look Dimity in the face.

"I'd rather not."

Dimity frowned at her. "Why?"

"Why do you think?" Hecate sat down in her chair with a great deal less than her usual theatrical flair, and knotted her hands together in her lap. "I spent the morning humiliating myself in front of the first years and anyone else who saw me under the effects of that potion. Yes, I know you thought I wouldn't remember," she said, forestalling what Dimity was about to say. "And no, I don't remember everything, but I remember enough to know I must be the laughingstock of the school, and with Ada gone...it's too much."

"Hecate—" Dimity began, but Hecate rolled right on over her, as she often did.

"So if it's quite all right with you, I'll just finish this potion and then make a start on preparing things for—" She drew a deep breath. "For the temporary headmistress. Whoever it may be."

Dimity found herself simultaneously feeling sorry for Hecate and wanting to shake her, but thought a good bracing pep talk would probably be the most prudent course of action. She came and stood in front of the chair so Hecate would have to look at her, feeling grateful for the height difference that put them nearly at eye level even when Hecate was sitting down.

"For goodness' sake, Hecate, you're being ridiculous. Every one of us has been changed into something slimy or had our hair turned green since we started working here. It's part and parcel of being around little witches who haven't got control of their powers yet and think burping potions are hilarious. Remember that time they put shrinking powder in my soup, and I fell in and had to swim circles until someone noticed and used my own spoon to lift me out?"

Hecate pressed her lips together as if to hide a smirk. "How could I forget? You smelt of chicken and leek for days."

"There was no washing it off," Dimity said. "The cats wouldn't stop following me, and it got worse every time I had to teach a broomstick lesson in the hot sun." She saw the smirk struggling to turn into a smile and pressed her advantage. "Compared to that, I'd say you've got nothing to be embarrassed about. You didn't look stupid, just...really, really relaxed. And a bit glamorous, if you want to know."

On any given day, Hecate had a pair of the most expressive eyebrows Dimity had ever encountered, but this made them shoot up as if they were trying to escape from her face and launch themselves into orbit. "Oh, please. Now who's being ridiculous?"

"You did, though. The roses and all that gorgeous long hair, very pre-Raphaelite. You could have floated down the river like that painting of Ophelia," Dimity said. She wondered if that was an actual flush developing in Hecate's pale cheeks, and if so, how she could somehow record it for posterity without being caught. No one would ever believe her without evidence.

"Anyway," she said, "it's not as bad as all that, so just get over yourself and come down to dinner. The girls are already off balance without Miss Cackle here; they need to see you're in charge so they feel safe. Come on, I'll go with you. We'll walk in together."

If she'd been talking to anyone else, she would have held out a friendly hand at that point, but you just didn't do that sort of thing with Hecate Hardbroom. Instead, she put both hands on her hips, elbows jutting out as if she didn't intend to take no for an answer-which she didn't-and Hecate huffed out a sigh and stood up, towering like a monument to some severe and repressive virtue.

"I suppose Ada would want me to."

"You know she would," Dimity said. "And when she comes back—"

"If she comes back."

" _When_ ," Dimity said firmly. " _When_ she comes back, I'll tell her how proud she should be of you."

That finally forced a real smile—albeit a small, sad one—onto Hecate's face. "I might tell her the same thing about you."

"I should certainly hope so," Dimity said. "Now let's go. If I end up falling into my soup again, I don't want it to be cold when I do."


End file.
